The Knight Brothers

02

Chapter Two

Eleven and a half months ago

April

I park my car in the desolate, dim parking lot, turn the key to the off position, and sit there for a few moments, gathering my wits for the day ahead. The glint of my wedding set catches in the streetlight, drawing my eye. I hold my hand out and study it, ignoring the French manicure that's now grown out. 

It's stunning. A near flawless three-carat cushion cut surrounded by a carat of pavé diamonds, all set in platinum. The wedding band boasts another two carats of round diamonds that span the entire length of the circle. 

It was bought with love. It was given with trust. Neither of which I deserve. 

I stare at the expensive piece still in disbelief that I did this. 

I'm married. 

Married.

To Jordan Knight. 

My best friend since I could walk. 

Brother to the man I really want. 

I am now Mrs. Knight. Ironic. It's the name I've always wanted. This just isn't exactly how I pictured getting it. 

I can't recall a single second of my wedding day after I walked out on Jordan. I don't remember Daddy giving me away. I don't remember the vows I recited or the cheer of the crowd as Jon and I walked out man and wife. The taste of our wedding cake eludes me, even two weeks later. The chords of our first song are just white noise. The feel of him moving inside me on our wedding night was as if it was happening to someone else while I watched, detached, from above. 

This situation is so messed up, I struggle to get my head around it most days. I'm self-destructing. And I don't know how to fucking stop it. 

I haven't stopped riding an emotional rollercoaster for over two years. Since the day Jordan Knight married my older sister. One second, I'm still in shock and the next, I want to die. Outwardly, I'm portraying the perfect, happy newlywed, but inside all I feel is desperate, lonely isolation. I think that's probably called despair. 

And I'm angry. So fucking angry. 

All the time. 

With Jon. With Sam. 

With Jordan for marrying me, refusing to see what was right in front of his fucking face. 

With this godforsaken town and life to which I feel chained. 

But mostly I'm angry with me. Why can't I cut a man loose who spouted his love through cryptic words but showed his true colors through real actions? Why can't I return the love of a man who treasures me more than air or life or his precious restored 1969 Camaro? If I could, I'd go back in time and change so many things. The first being: I would never let myself fall hopelessly in love with Jon Knight. Liar. Betrayer. Saboteur. 

And guilt? God...the guilt. That emotion has this entire despicable scenario wrapped up in a nice, neat little bastardized package, tied up tight with a bright shiny bow of infamy. 

Pining after someone's husband is one thing. Pining after someone's husband when you're now married—to his brother—is taking immorality to an entirely new level. But that's me. I always manage to find fresh and juicy ways to skirt around the edges of acceptable social behavior. 

Sadness and regret envelop me. Completely. Thoroughly. 

This ring represents my own betrayal. My own duplicity. My self-destruction. It should belong to someone else. Anyone else but me.